5 Reasons Living in Cincinnati is Better than New York

I had a friend in town over the weekend who currently lives in New York City. Let’s call him Jack . In the approximately 60 hours of Jack’s visit, he spent a good portion of his time complaining about the lack of “city” in the area and calling it inferior to his beloved NYC.

I have other friends in NYC who basically have the same things to say about Cincy, but after listening to stories about their day-to-day lives, I’m come to the conclusion that I’d rather be living in Cincinnati. Here’s why:

1. Cost of living

I won’t go into specifics of exact cost, but I will say that Jack pays about 50% more for rent then I do to live in a “suite.” A suite consists of a few tiny bedrooms and then one small common area. My downtown apartment, where I split rent with my girlfriend, has a good sized bedroom, study, kitchen, hallway, dining room, and living room, as well as the walk-in closet she uses that is apparently the same size as Jack’s bedroom (I’m sure it’s hyperbole, but you get the idea). Similar stories came out about drinks at bars, shopping at the grocery store, etc.

2. Seeing nature on a daily basis

Driving from downtown East along Columbia Parkway, Jack was thrilled to see trees, the river, and hills. Since moving to New York, he hasn’t seen much besides buildings, cars, and trains. While he’s trapped in his concrete, man-made world, we’ve got plenty of quiet places to go with a great view of both the city and the natural terrain have to offer. Central Park is a glaring exception to this rule in NYC, but unless you live near it, you have to make an effort to get over there, which doesn’t generally happen in people’s busy day-to-day lives.

3. Lack of crowding

While I certainly would like to see more people coming downtown in general, I still prefer it to how ridiculous NYC sounds. Jack was surprised we were able to all walk in a group at a leisurely pace through the city and have a conversation instead of being forced into a single file line, rushed by other people. If you want to drive anywhere in NYC, forget it, there’s traffic jams all the time that would put 75 to shame during rush hour. They do have that train system going for them though- one thing we really need around here.

4. Friendlier people

Walking by City Cellars, a couple was leaving the building just as we were passing by. We cheerfully said hello, and they responded in kind, which to me is a very normal thing. Jack commented after the couple had passed that he probably would have been yelled at if he greeted someone he didn’t know in New York and was a bit confused by the whole interaction.

5. Less social pressure

This is more aimed towards young professionals, but that’s usually who wants to live in city instead of out in the suburbs anyway. In New York, there are a ton of trendy bars, and it sounds like most YPs get swept up by this fact, and end up spending most of their free just going to trendy bars and trying to out-trend one another. As someone who has gone to bars in the ‘Nati wearing sweats and only gotten dirty looks from his girlfriend (and even then pretty seldom), I think the YP social scene in New York sounds awful. If I’d rather hang out and have a few beers at a friend’s house (yes house, not tiny apartment), I’m not throwing away yet another chance to “be seen.” It’s also much easier to get out and do other things around here, while in NYC it sounds very easy to get into a routine of heading to the bars every weekend.

It may not be as outwardly obvious when glancing at the two cities, but Cincinnati has a lot of subtle things to offer. Call me crazy, but considering how much of a dent I’m able to put into my school loans while still having a blast in my free time, I’ll take the ‘Nati over NYC.

These observations were also made based on personal experiences of my friends in NYC- feel free to debunk what I’ve said below.

Dildos on Ice [Hockey + Pure Romance = Entendre Festival]

Saturday night, my wife and I came at the exact same time.  More than 7,000 other people came, too.  At times the action was slow and steady; at others, it was fast and frenzied, but in the end, only somewhat satisfying.  We had a great time, but we’ve all had better.

These uniforms were modeled after Bret "The Hitman" Hart.

Obviously I’m talking about Saturday’s Cincinnati Cyclones game, which was filled with enough double entendres to fill the mostly unread “Humor” page of that Playboy magazine you managed to get your hands on as a kid.

This was our first Cyclones game.  Take it easy.  We’ve only had our Cincinnati membership cards for about eight months, so once the weather got cold we decided we should go see some old time hockey.  We circled Saturday, February 20th because it was “Pink in the Rink” night, featuring pink ice and pink jerseys–about the only things which will get my wife to watch sports with me.

What we didn’t realize was that Pink in the Rink is the creation of Pure Romance, the tri-state’s leading purveyors of butt plugs and something called Great Head, which is “designed as a relaxant for the gag reflex, and deliciously flavored so that you finish with fresh breath.”

No problem.  We’re not Puritans.  It’s just that we love unintentional humor.

Other writers here on thecincinnatiman.com have already established the inherent manliness of hockey. Even when you are playing on pink ice that makes US Bank Arena look like a very large strip club, the game is still manly.  Even when you’re wearing pink on your jersey and the other team is straight up mocking your ass because of it, you’re still quite manly.  Even if that jersey has a large, prominent patch for Pure Romance sewn on it, you’re still no less of a man.  It’s just that you’ve become a French-Canadian billboard on skates for cock rings and edible panties.  And that’s fine.  You could still kick my ass.

Still, Pink in the Rink proved to be a paradise of snark.  Before the game, a video message informed the crowd that all proceeds would benefit the Patty Brisben Foundation, which is dedicated to “educating women about intimate health issues.”  I wonder how many of the kids asked their mom about her intimate health.

Also noted:

A Twister is something mommy uses when daddy is out of town.

1.  The game, sponsored by Pure Romance, was against a team called the Nailers.

2. Three-ways, four-ways, and five-ways were all readily available.  From Skyline.

3.  The mascot is named Twister, which in and of itself sounds like it could be the name of a self-pleasuring device.

4.  I think the driver of the Zamboni could accurately call himself the Zamboner.

5.  An ad near center ice (ahem) plugged Dickmann’s.

6.  The Cyclones seemed to struggle with stick-handling all night.  No, seriously.

7.  The crowd erupted with applause each time the Nailers were ridden hard.  Into the boards.

8.  The climax of the night was a five-on-three, though the Nailers prevented us from tickling the twine.

You get the picture.  The Cyclones ended up losing in a shootout (there’s another one), and after the game, the team auctioned off its pink jerseys to benefit the intimate health foundation.  My wife and I decided we would bid up to $100 to get one of these.

The bidding started at $250.

We didn’t hear anything sell for less than $550 before we decided to get the Hell out of there.  You could buy a lot of dildos for that kind of green.  Granted, they wouldn’t be “game worn” by the hockey players.

Comic: If Vengeance Be My Destiny #40

If Vengeance Be My Destiny is TCM’s Sunday comic. This is installment #40. You can catch up on the story right here.

Saturday Rock Box: Sleep

If you know anything about me, I love the kind of metal that deeply resembles the greatest and manliest band ever, Black Sabbath.  Sleep is a pretty solid representation of exactly what I’m talking about.  Hope you ate a solid breakfast, because this band could shake your bowels loose.

Tiger Beat: A (female) Tiger Fan’s Response

For some reason, people need heroes. We need hope. We need to have to have someone we trust to take care of us. Things might go wrong, but that hero will always save the day. Basically, we all need a daddy.

That’s why when Tiger Woods (or Bill Clinton, or John Kennedy, or whoever we love who can’t keep his dick out of random snatch) falters, and shows weakness, and proves beyond all doubt that whomever we trust, it should not be the guy who will throw down everything he has and will amass for 10 minutes of sweaty, drunken, half-enjoyable sex… we think: Fuck. If he can’t do it, what the hell am I supposed to do?

When the news first broke that Tiger Woods had cheated on his wife (which snowballed into him apparently sleeping with everyone with Fallopian tubes), I wasn’t surprised. I wasn’t expecting it either, but there’s a reason for that- I couldn’t give two shits who Tiger bones. If I was Elin, I’d care. But I’m not his wife. What he does off the course is none of my business. To extend that idea, what anyone I’m not currently in an exclusive relationship with does is none of my business. Honestly, I don’t even want to think about what you’re doing, because you’ll shut my shit down.

People’s overreaction to this situation is based in their overreaction to celebrities in general. For the famous, they are thrown every bone they want (you can take that pun as you will) and their behavior is continually excused. It does not take long to figure out that something I can do (for example, stick out my lower lip) will get me anything I want, and even less time to exploit the shit out of it.

The outrage people are expressing is ridiculous. This will not affect their lives. If you want to get outraged, get outraged about people in America who need medical care. Get outraged that Haiti had to lose a fifth of their population in a natural disaster to get some recognition of their desperately impoverished state. Get outraged that women and blacks and gays get fucked over just because they are as they were born and get hated for something they can’t change.

I’m still a Tiger fan. I still have the tag on my purse from when I was able to go to the Memorial Tournament in Columbus last year. He walked right past me and I was thrilled- because the greatest golfer in history had just walked past me. Not because I thought “if I throw my wahoo at him, I could be set for life.”

I’m still a Tiger fan because I’m a fan of Tiger the golfer. Not Tiger the man. Because I don’t know Tiger the man. Neither do most of us. So, keep your fandom in check. Because if you throw someone on a pedestal, you shouldn’t be so surprised and angry if he falls off of it.

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A final note to Ernie Els, Sergio Garcia, Tom Watson, and any other golfer who decided to weigh on this as though it was any of their business: You are making more money because of Tiger. Without Tiger, golf goes back to that thing people have on while they take their Sunday afternoon nap. Instead of talking to the press, maybe you should practice so that when Tiger comes back, you might have a chance of beating him.

So Much for Communism [Women's Hockey]

Thursday night, the Olympics featured China versus Russia in women’s hockey.

I assumed that everyone would just skate around and then the goals would be evenly distributed at the end of the game.

Russia, in true “fall of the wall” spirit, won the game.

Russia 2, China 1

Capitalism 1, Communism 0

Suck it, commies!